


Is it teasing or is it flirting?

by drarryphan



Category: Drarry - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drarry, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-20 16:26:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4794335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drarryphan/pseuds/drarryphan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Ron who first notices that at this point Malfoy's "teasing" is really more like "flirting". What happens when Harry is dared to shut him up?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Dare

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Do you get that thing where suddenly you have the first few words of a fanfic and you direly need to put them to use? Suddenly two hours later here I am, the beginning of a fairly promising fic on my hands. Hope you guys enjoy! Thanks for reading :)  
> Of course, you know the usual- I do not own any of these characters, all rights go to JK Rowling and her incredible mind anyways, enjoy!

_There is a perfectly valid reason for this_ , Draco assured himself. Surely, it was quite obvious that there was an abundance of reasons as to why Draco found himself in his current situation. 

For instance, it was quite _obvious_ really, that he’d been cursed. Clearly none of this was of his own volition. That would be preposterous, truly. 

Or perhaps he’d been hit quite hard on the head, so much so that he became meek and open to -even the most horrifying of- suggestions. No, never mind, Malfoy’s certainly do not just simply become “meek”.

It took all of Draco’s being not to pass out. _Yes,_ Draco concluded, _this must be an effect from whatever potion someone had slipped me_. He made a mental note to consciously try to remember all of these facts for when he would inevitably have to relay it to Madam Pomfrey for testing. 

Currently, Draco realized in horror, there was a small crowd gathering; witnessing everything. He would have cursed if his mouth weren't otherwise occupied. That is to say, occupied with another mouth. A very specific and not-so-in-the-least-inconspicuous mouth, unfortunately. 

Draco tries to pry himself away but only finds that the more he attempts to resist the more he, in actuality, ends up melting further into Potter's- _Harry_ Potter's- kiss. 

_Merlin._

Draco side notes this as another detail to add to the increasingly long list of side effects the potion must have had on him.

In his already confused and clouded brain, Draco tries to remember exactly how this strange occurrence began.

It had started out as a normal day. He was in Potions class and at some point or another pointed out, rather smugly, something awful about Potter that everyone else clearly direly needed to know urgently. Potter, of course, had _attempted_ a retaliation, but as his brain is not very good on the spot, it came out more as a “Yeah, well, you're not so fancy yourself-”. Draco had, given the opportunity, feigned a pretend look of hurt on his face and questioned;

“What, are you saying you _don't_ fancy me?” And with that he capitalized on his infamous smirk.

And maybe, perhaps, he shouldn't have said that, because Potter rallied back- now with presumed new confidence.

“Oh, and I'm sure _you'd_ just _love_ that, wouldn't you, Malfoy?”

Draco had scoffed. The nerve!

“You wish!”

If asked, he wouldn't admit to it, but Draco reddened in the face a small amount as he realized that he quoted Harry from second year. Draco had peered back at his potion, which had now, thanks to being left untouched for even a small amount of time, looked pitiful.

Harry raised an eyebrow at the blonds statement. Draco decided it best not to give him a chance to comment.

“Really, your obsession with me is rather flattering, but _I'm_ not into blokes.” Draco sneered. He was well aware that at this a few people turned their heads in curiosity, but most people had learned to tune them out years ago and paid no mind.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Are you trying to imply something?”

“Was it that obvious?” Draco allowed his voice to drip in sarcasm.

“Last time I checked you're the one who's never had a girlfriend.”

“And maybe that's because I have higher standards than you-”

“Oh get a room!” Pansy drawls in between the two. Draco turns his anger towards her for a second before glaring back over her shoulder at Harry. It was then that the class was dismissed. He barely even noticed when Snape took 20 points from Gryffindor and Slytherin respectively.

Harry shook his head. “You wanna know what I think?”

Draco's eyes remain locked in a glare but his mouth twitched up into a smirk. 

“Not really.” 

“ _I think_ , you're too pathetic to get a date.”

Draco scoffed again, looking around the room to see only him and Harry left. Even the Professor had seen himself out. He wondered, briefly, why he so frequently ended up alone with his enemy.

“As pathetic as you? Impossible.” Alright, not his best work, Draco reflects, but surely not as bad as it could have been.

“Hey,” Harry says, “I've had dates. I've had a _girlfriend_. Say what you will about me Malfoy, but I'm still more experienced than you are,” and after a thought: “Than you'll ever be.”

Draco idly remembers the small redhead who'd followed Harry around like a fangirl until she grew breasts and became desirable as a female. His anger only grew.

“I mean, as if anyone would ever want to touch _you_.” Harry said, watching as the Slytherin's glare slowly turned into a look of sadness. 

Draco stared at the insufferable prat before him, and for once he was speechless. The thing is, he did have experience, but it was with Pansy and quite honestly, it was not anything to write home about. Draco had decided to experiment with her, and found that she just royally sucked at kissing, and handjobs, and blowjobs, and you know it's amazing that anyone can fuck up sex but you know what? She managed it.

His mind raced, searching for something to say. _As if anyone would willingly touch you._ You know, except that people have. _Well at least I'm not a slut like you, willing for anyone's grabby hands. Attention whore, much?_ Far be it that Harry was so modest he turned away dates right left and centre considering he was the chosen one.

So instead he went with; “Is that what you tell all the girls, Potter?”

Harry's eyebrow quirked up, and before Draco knew what was happening, the prat was kissing him. _Kissing_ him!

At first, Draco's reaction was to push him off of him- and that he did- only it didn't work. You see, in the two seconds it took for Draco to process what was happening, Harry had swept his arms around Draco's back in what felt like a death grip. 

Draco whined internally. 

Or no, maybe he did that out loud.

And actually, maybe it hadn't been a whine. Draco didn't dare question what the fuck that meant. He could feel Harry smiling into the kiss- for what reason god knows why. Was he enjoying himself? Prat.

Harry pushed Draco back, and it felt like he was probably about to fall off the face of the Earth until his back hit a desk.

Draco found his hands again and lifted them to the Gryffindors chest fully _intending_ to push as hard as he could until-

He didn't.

And he wasn't exactly sure why but his hands went limp and he realized suddenly that he was _feeling_ Potter's chest and that was just _so_ wrong but for some reason he couldn't stop.

At first, Draco accounted his actions to the fact that he is an eighteen year old boy who hasn't seen any action in a long, miserable amount of time.

One of Harry's death-gripping hands came up and cupped Draco's face, the surprise Draco felt making him gasp. Harry took no time to procrastinate before moving his tongue promptly into Draco's mouth. 

Draco's eyes shot wide open, as if he only just realized what the hell was going on. He noticed that Harry's eyes were closed and that he looked, what, blissful? Happy? Draco shuddered. 

_I will push him away now_ , Draco practically attempted to command himself. And that was when he realized that he couldn't- not of his own free will anyways, and he theorized that he must have been cursed. Or perhaps he was still in shock. Or both. 

That makes sense. Draco could deal with that. Clearly he'd been cursed, or, or _something_ , and so had Potter, and soon enough this would just be a bad memory and things would return back to normal. If only he could have known how wrong he was.

\- - - - -

The truth was, he'd been dared to do it. 

Ron seemed to think that lately “Malfoy's teasing is starting to sound a lot more like flirting”, and Hermione suggested, “Next time he gives you trouble, kiss him. Surely that'll shut him up.” Of course Harry wouldn't have actually listened to her advice until Seamus piped in, (and since when had Seamus been listening?) turning Hermione's suggestion into a dare. Harry groaned; not the kind of person to back down from a dare. Great, now he'll be hexed within the next few days.

Except that now, here he was, kissing Malfoy, and- and- he _liked it_.

And apparently so did Draco, if his moans were anything to go by. Harry wondered offhandedly if he even knew he was making these noises. All Harry could think, however, was that it was _fucking hot_ , that the sensation of feeling his moans in his mouth was _bloody brilliant_ and that it should _never, never stop_.

Harry could feel all of his self control slipping dangerously as he picked up the reciprocating Slytherin and propped him on top of a desk, never once breaking the kiss. Why either of them were enjoying this was beyond him. Harry thought that maybe they were both afraid to stop, because surely once they did they'd both be dead.

The protective hand Harry still had grasping Draco's back, once an impenetrable barrier which prevented the Slytherin from any attempts at fleeing, found itself suddenly exploring everything.

For instance, his back. Harry's hand traveled up the length of Draco's smooth skin, the boy beneath him shuddering at the unexpected contact. _Damn it,_ Harry thought to himself, _I'm enjoying this a lot._

Meanwhile, Draco was still entertaining the possibility that this was all a dream, or that maybe he'd somehow fallen into a parallel dimension. The only thing that pleased him about thinking of this is that in one parallel dimension there must surely be a version where Potter isn't the wizarding worlds favourite, instead Draco is.

Draco tried to imagine that he wasn't enjoying this. He reassured himself that there was nothing in this bizarre experience that anyone could possibly find-

Hmf. Draco's thoughts were immediately cut off when Harry kindly removed his lips, but they were soon put to better use.

“Fuck.” Draco moaned. Shit, did he say that out loud?

Draco could feel Harry smirk against his neck and he would've been angry if he wasn't so overwhelmed. How can anyone think straight when their neck of all places is experiencing the most delightful feeling?

Draco threw his head back, somehow no longer caring that this was _Potter_ sucking on his neck. One of his hands lifted from Potter's chest and timidly played with his hair. Maybe, if he wasn't so out of breath and his mind running a mile a minute, he would have noticed how soft his hair is.

Harry suddenly detached from his neck, and they made eye contact for one terrible second before their lips crashed back into each other hungrily.

But no, this definitely wasn't a dream. It was the most alive Draco's ever felt in his entire life (a side effect of the potion, no less), and he was suddenly hyper aware of everything around him. _Including_ the gasp that came from the hallway.

He tries to find the strength to push away the Gryffindor, but instead his hands slip and suddenly he's pulling him closer by his belt and _oh god this is so wrong_ , but somehow Draco can't stop kissing him back. That reminds him, when did he start kissing him back? A small voice in the back of Draco's mind tries to inform him that it only took him 3 seconds to melt, but he ignores it.

When the surprised noises from the crowd finally make it through to Harry, he rips himself away from Draco and nearly cartwheels away. Nearly, that is, and that's how Harry found himself on the floor in front of a crowd of people who just witnessed him and his school rival passionately making out.

Harry's first reaction is to take out his wand and _oblivate_ the lot. After standing up in a daze, he grabs Draco's hand and ushers him out of the room and run before the confused crowd can come to.


	2. Nothing to say for yourself, Potter?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and harry have a little chat.

The boys are speechless. Mostly because by the time they stop running, and Draco bitterly rips his hand away from Harry, they are both miserably out of breath.

Harry is terrified that he's about to die at the hands of Draco, imagining all the different hexes he's surely about to receive. After all, Harry did start this. Harry looks timidly over at Draco and realizes that he is wearing a similar face as the one Harry is sporting; fearful, tired, embarrassed, and slightly turned on.

Draco isn't looking at Harry though, he has his hands on his knees and he's trying to catch his breath. Harry definitely does not take advantage of the blond's position to check him out; nope, that would be wrong.

“Potter,” Draco manages through heavy breaths, “What. The. Fuck.”

Harry finds himself biting his lip; this wasn't his plan. He was just going to kiss him to shut him up, maybe even get him to leave him alone for awhile. It _was_ a dare, after all. But now he just feels stupid, because suddenly an innocent prank turned into confusion and new-found desire. He looks over to Draco and his mouth is swollen and his neck is red and-

“I don't know.” Harry says, because maybe now he's not sure what happened.

“You don't know?” Draco hisses, straightening his back. _Yup,_ Harry determinedly thinks: _not checking him out not checking him out not-_

“So you just decided to kiss me out of nowhere, then?” Draco looks like an odd mix between pissed and lustful.

Harry gulps. Somehow, he never thought he'd hear Malfoy say those particular words in that particular order.

“Nothing to say for yourself, Potter?” Draco says, and his signature sneer begins to take over his face.

“I'm sorry,” Is what Harry can hear himself saying. _Well, there's a first for everything, I guess_. “It- it was a dare.”

“A _dare_?” Draco bellows. “Who the fuck would dare _you_ to kiss _me_?”

“Well,” Harry thinks. “Seamus. Seamus overheard a conversation I was having with Ron and Hermione and-”

Draco looks mortified. “You were having a conversation about _kissing me_ with _them_?”

“No! Of course not!” Harry's face distorts. “Not really...”

“ _Not really_?” Draco looks like he's about to pass out.

“Well, Ron was saying that you teasing me was actually more like flirting, and then-”

“ _Flirting?_ I do _not_ flirt, and especially not with _you_.”

“Hermione suggested that the next time you “teased” me I should kiss you to shut you up, and-”

“Of course this is Granger's fault.” Draco mutters bitterly, crossing his arms.

“So Seamus then turned it into a dare and well,” Harry flushed. “I never back down to dares.”

“Oh yeah? Well I dare you to go fuck yourself.” Draco says, and only a second later realizes the implication of his words.

If it was even possible, Harry's cheeks turn even more red.

“That's not- actually no don't-” Draco's face returns to being angry. “Fuck you.”

But even that can be taken the wrong way and suddenly Harry is snickering and Draco wants to strangle him. _What an immature idiot,_ Draco reels.

“One step at a time there, Malfoy-” Harry says before being pinned to the closest wall.

“Let's get things straight,” Draco purposefully ignores when Harry raises his eyebrow at 'straight'. “No one will find out about this. Ever.”

Harry nods vigorously. “Agreed.”

Draco continues to glare at Harry, still pinning him. 

“Hey, Malfoy?”

“What?” Draco snaps.

“Are you going to let go of me or were you looking for a round two?” Harry laughs when Draco lets go of him, disgusted. 

“I never thought I could hate you more than I already did, but here we are,” Draco crosses his arms again.

Harry decides to run with this, because apparently it's really easy to work him up when you talk about this subject. 

“Oh, so it's “we” now? Isn't that a little sudden?” 

Draco's face drops. “Potter, kindly shut the fuck up, would you?”

Harry mimes the action of zipping his mouth closed.

Draco begins to walk away but stops himself, remembering the potion or curse or- or whatever it is that allowed what happened to continue for more than 2 seconds.

Draco sighs, turning on his heel to glare at Potter again.

“What?” Harry asks timidly, his confidence suddenly exhausted.

“Did someone, like, curse me or something?” Draco is positively sure he would never, on his own inhibition, allow Potter to kiss him. Therefore _something_ must have happened.

“What are you on about?” Harry looks confused.

“It's just- there's no way that I would have let that happen.” Draco clears his throat. “I mean, let you kiss me, that is.”

_Log that under words Harry never thought he'd hear Draco say as well._

Harry narrows his eyes. “I knew what you meant.”

“Right.” 

Harry realizes that he's never seen Draco Malfoy so uncomfortable before. This was truly an odd experience that needed to be repeated. He relished in every grimace and awkward side glance. It was like Draco couldn't look him properly in the eyes. Not that he'd ever really held that much eye contact with him before, but generally it was Harry shying away from his gaze- not Draco.

“Well, I'm not sure who exactly would have cursed you, Malfoy. The only people who knew about the dare was Hermione, Ron, and Seamus- but that's not exactly how the dare was supposed to go.” Harry says, his hand reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck.

A weird look donned on Draco's face, and suddenly he was running away.


	3. Not attractive at all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco deals with the information that there was no underlying curse that made him react the way he did.

Draco ran all the way to Madam Pomfrey's office. He'd passed by quite a few concerned students, eyeing him run like hell. Blaise even tried to stop him. There was a thought in the back of his mind that told him he was making a scene, but he didn't care.

“Mr. Malfoy!” Madam Pomfrey exclaims as he bursts into her office unceremoniously. She stands up to look at him square in the face as if she might know what is wrong with him just by first glance.

Draco clutches the door frame, trying to catch his breath.

Madam Pomfrey sighs, ushering him out of her office. “With me,” She says, leading him to a bed and gesturing that he sit down. “Now, once you've caught your breath- why are you here?”

“Is there any way you can test me to see if I've, if I've been cursed or- or maybe someone slipped me a potion, or charmed me, or-” Draco says in a rush.

“What happened?”

Draco blushes and internally scorns himself for it.

“Oh, uh, it- it doesn't matter, I was just wondering if you could test me to see-”

“Look, I'd have a hell of an easier time if you just told me what was up. You don't have to name names or anything,” Madam Pomfrey waved her hands around. “Besides, unless you tell me someone is planning to kill someone- I'm sworn to secrecy.”

Draco looks at her nervously.

“Well you see,” He begins. “It's just that, uh-”

Madam Pomfrey rolls her eyes. “Are you just trying to waste my time, Mr. Malfoy?”

“No!” Draco almost panics.

“Then please, just spit it out.” Pomfrey sighs.

“Ok.” Draco nods. “Well, um, someone _awful_ kissed me and I wasn't able to push away from them. It was like I was hypnotized or something.”

Madam Pomfrey narrows her eyes. “When you say awful-”

“A student!” Draco raises his hands in defense.

“Had to ask.” Pomfrey shrugs, her eyebrow raising when she notices the now fully formed hickeys on his neck.

“And I _know_ that I wouldn't react how- how I did. I felt more alive than ever but it also felt like I was about to pass out, and I felt very, very weak- I couldn't even push him away-” Draco instinctively covers his mouth when he realizes his mistake. “ _Her_ -I couldn't push _her_ away, and...”

“Alright, alright, I get it.” Madam Pomfrey raises her wand, going through a list of different spells. Draco is sure that she will find something, so he sits there with a smug look on his face.

She looks puzzled for a moment, and then says another spell, just to be sure.

“Well?” Draco asks after she's fastening her wand into a pocket in her robe.

Madam Pomfrey sighs loudly, “Is this some kind of joke, Mr. Malfoy?”

“No!” Draco crosses his arms, looking genuinely insulted.

“Then I'm sorry to inform you that there's absolutely nothing. I even scanned to see when the last time anything magical even touched you was and well, that was many months ago.”

Draco's face pales at the reminder of the war.

“Very well.” He stands, attempting to keep somewhat of a composure. “Thank you, anyways.”

“Draco-” Madam Pomfrey lays her hand on his shoulder to stop him. “Have you considered that maybe the reason you couldn't pull away from the kiss was because you liked it?”

Draco splutters. “No! I have _not_ considered that!”

The nurse simply gives him a supportive smile. “It's alright, Mr. Malfoy. Sometimes we don't know what we want until we have it.”

Draco shakes his head urgently. “No!”

“Well, look on the bright side, at least you know now that no one tried to curse you.” Pomfrey hopes this might help.

Draco sneers at no one in particular. “This is all Potter's fault.” He mutters under his breath. 

“Potter?” The nurses curiosity peaks. “Is he involved in this?”

Draco's eyes widen. “No! Definitely not!”

“He's not the one who, _kissed_ you, is he?” Madam Pomfrey says warily, as if Draco is a bomb ready to explode. And really, he kind of is.

“God, no!”

“Mr. Malfoy, there's no reason to get short with me-”

“I need to go.” Draco says as he backs away. “Immediately.”

Madam Pomfrey watches as he rushes quickly out of the infirmary.

\- - - - -

“Harry, where have you been?” Hermione asks as Harry sits down at the Great Hall between Ron and Neville.

“Oh, it's nothing really-” He says, averting her gaze. “Can you pass me that?” He diverts, pointing to a small gravy boat. 

“You're not keeping secrets from us again, are you?” Hermione asks, and Harry can tell from her voice that she is genuinely concerned. 

“Yeah Harry, where'd you go after potions? When we all left I thought you were behind me and I sounded like a bloody fool talking to myself!”

Harry shrugs. “I went to the library.”

Hermione's eyes narrow. “No you didn't. _We_ ,” She said, gesturing to Ron and her, “Went to the library. _You_ weren't there.”

Harry smiles, dropping his voice low and leaning over the table towards her. “I told you it was nothing, okay? Can you please drop it?”

Hermione is unconvinced. “But Harry-”

“Drop it,” He frowns, sitting back up and peering unconsciously over to the Slytherin table. “Please?”

Hermione nods resignedly. 

“Mate, we still on for Quidditch practice tomorrow?” Ron asks, shoving a piece of bread in his mouth.

“Uh,” Harry thinks; temporarily forgetting what day it is. Wednesday-right. “Yup.”

Harry absentmindedly looks over at the Slytherin table again, wondering where Draco is. _Is he hiding from me?_ He wonders. _Or maybe he's plotting my slow and painful demise._ Harry frowns again. _Yeah, probably that._

He looks around at his fellow Gryffindors. Sure, they'd dared him to kiss Draco, but what would they think if they found out that Draco kissed him back? And that they might have, possibly, continued to kiss for- how long?

And had the door been open the entire time?

Oh god, what if someone else had seen but left before he had the chance to-

“Harry?” Ron nudges him. “Are you feeling alright?”

Maybe he shouldn't think about this in public. Apparently he's crap at keeping his facial expression under control.

Harry tries on a smile. “Yeah, of course.” 

For the rest of the meal Hermione just continues to stare at him like he's a complicated math equation she can't solve.

\- - - - - 

“Okay, it's okay.” Draco says to no one, pacing back and forth in the Slytherin common room. Everyone is still eating supper, so he finds himself alone- thank god.

“There must be _some_ logical explanation.” He mutters under his breath, stopping to sink into his- or what he considers to be his- chair.

_This doesn't mean anything. You were just confused. Yes, that's it. You obviously thought that it was- uh, someone else kissing you. Except that you don't like anyone else-_

Anyone. Not 'anyone else'. You don't like _anyone_.

_And it's not your fault that he- that he just happens to be such a good kisser-_

“Fuck.” Draco puts his head in his hands, decidedly _not_ thinking about the way that Harry's mouth felt against his, the way their lips battled almost tenderly, and when- wait, Harry?!

“Potter.” Draco forced himself to say, as if saying it out loud would solidify it. He's only ever regarded him by his last name, and he wasn't about to change that now.

Draco couldn't decide what was worse; letting himself relive the kiss, or thinking of _him_ by his first name.

It occurs to him now; that with no ulterior magic to drive him, it was _Draco_ who couldn't push Potter off him, it was _Draco_ who pulled him closer, it was _Draco_ who threw his head back and _moaned_.

He closes his eyes, willing himself to simply forget and move on. After all, if he were to kill Potter that wouldn't look very good on a resume. _Ah yes, you killed the hero of the wizarding world! Perfect, you're hired!_

With his eyes closed, however, his brain conjures images of a certain heroic Gryffindor. _No, nonononono_.

“He's not even _that_ attractive.” Draco scoffs. “No, he's not attractive at all, he's gross and short and sexy and-”

Draco stands up rather urgently. _Distraction_ , he incoherently orders himself, _find a distraction_.

He rummages through a small bookcase and grabs the biggest book he can find, flipping through the pages desperately.

_This definitely isn't how you read a book._

The Slytherin wants to scream, or cry, or both.

_This is it, I've finally lost it._

For a second, Draco let himself believe that all of this was just a particularly pesky nightmare.

“I hate him, I hate him, I _hate him._ ” Draco was almost seething.

A worrying thought crept into the forefront of Draco's mind. _How on Earth am I going to handle seeing him in class tomorrow?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm so glad you guys are liking it so far! I really enjoy hearing your feedback.


	4. Consequences Be Damned

Harry has a hard time falling asleep. He tosses and turns for what feels like forever. His mind has no difficulty supplying him an endless stream of Malfoy. Shirtless Malfoy, for example, pops into his mind subconsciously and it takes all of Harry's better judgment to suppress it.

Harry wishes the blond wasn't so damn attractive.

 _It should be illegal for assholes to be hot_.

He'd never really acknowledged it before- Malfoy's attractiveness, that is. It _might_ have lurked in the back of his mind and he _may_ have inadvertently felt his cheeks blush on occasion, but two and two never added up before. Up until now, Harry would have swore that his face would “go red with anger”. Now, he realizes, it was just because the blond probably did something irritatingly cute and he had become flustered.

 _I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to find your school rival attractive._ Harry tells himself, but suddenly he's thinking about the kiss again and he's lost to the world as he falls asleep with a dumb smile on his face- consequences be damned.

\- - - - - 

When Draco wakes up, he realizes that he's nearly late for his first class. And Draco is never, _never_ late. He quickly debates whether or not he has time to shower but seeing that he has less then five minutes to run through Hogwarts and get to class, he's gotta go now.

Draco quickly changes into something presentable and rushes out of the Slytherin common room, unsurprisingly alone in his late endeavor to class. He mentally makes sure he's remembered the right textbooks.

After running up three flights of stairs and sliding down five long hallways, he's made it with a minute to spare. He composes himself before opening the door and sauntering in.

He notices a few people giving him an odd look, others muffling laughter, and some that just look completely shocked. _Get over yourself. So what if I'm almost late?_

The Slytherin sits down by a rigid looking Pansy. Draco eyes her curiously. “What's wrong with you?”

“With _me_?” She asks incredulously. 

“Yes, you. You look all, tense and stuff.” Draco pulls out his textbook, a notebook, and quill.

“Draco, you-” She says before being cut off by another, less than friendly Slytherin.

“Hey Draco! Who was the lucky girl?” The guy- who's name Draco never bothered to remember- yells across the class.

Draco whips his head around to face him and narrows his eyes. 

“Must have been a long night,” The guy is saying, nudging his buddies and laughing. “If you know what I mean.”

“Yeah Draco,” A girl on the other side of the classroom pipes up. “Did she let you feel her boobs?”

“Which house was she from?” Someone behind him blurts and he doesn't have time to look before Pansy grabs his arm.

“Was it _Pansy_?” A few people gasp. Draco is confused- what on Earth are they talking about? Why do they all think that-

_Oh god._

“Pansy,” Draco seethes, as the class seemingly entertains themselves by throwing around potential candidates. “What are they all talking about?” 

His eyes are wide and Pansy can tell that he honestly doesn't know. 

_Did word get out about- about..._ But how do they _know?_

“Draco,” She whispers, leaning closer to him. “You're neck.”

“What?” He asks, his hand whipping up to feel his neck- not finding anything there until-

Draco's eyes widen even more when he realizes. 

_Potter_

_sucked_

_my_

_fucking_

_neck_

And now Draco is sporting a rather large beacon of “look at me, I've been coddled intimately!” 

“You have a hickey.” Pansy blushes. “Actually you have three-”

“It's- it's nothing.” Draco comments. “I even forgot about it. See, nothing.”

Pansy smiles. “You'll tell me about it later.”

Draco pales, talking slowly. “There's nothing to tell.”

“Sure.” She smiles. “Accept that you were almost _late_ for _class_ today and yesterday you were no where to be found after Potions.”

“Well it's nothing, really. I just went to my room to read. Am I not aloud to do that?” 

Pansy eyes him carefully. “You went to your room to read- and came out with three, wait four- hickeys?”

Draco can feel his face heating up and he shrugs. “Pretty good book in my opinion.”

Pansy sighs. “Draco,” she whispers. “Yesterday I went looking for you after Potions, and, well I saw everything.”

Draco blinks.

“I saw you, you know, kissing-”

“Nope, no- we are _not_ talking about this." Draco's voice is dangerous and low. "You saw nothing, got it?”

\- - - - -

When the class is let up, Draco bolts from his seat. He spent the entire class ignoring Pansy's quiet _you can talk to me about it, you know_ and the subtle _you know I've always suspected you were gay, I mean, why else wouldn't you like me?_ not to mention her more eager _so what was it like?_

Before Pansy can follow him, he's rounded a corner, trying to blend in with a crowd of fourth year Hufflepuffs. 

His next class is spent awkwardly trying to cover his neck by leaning on his hand- accept that it's his writing hand and his scripture suddenly looks like that of a preschooler as he uses his left and does a crap job of it.

When it's time to finally break for lunch, Draco severely debates whether attending would be a good idea or not, but considering he missed last nights supper as well as this mornings breakfast he grudgingly follows Blaise towards his doom.

Upon walking through the doors to the Great Hall, Draco is suddenly assaulted with the sight of Potter _laughing_ and _smiling_ and _talking_ and he just-so-happens to look up and meet his gaze. The Slytherin nearly passes out.

He watches, incapable of tearing his eyes away, as the Gryffindor blushes, _blushes_ ; promptly returning his attention back to his friends.

Somehow, the thought of Potter flustered over Draco is exciting to him. It doesn't occur to Draco that he's stopped in the middle of the entrance until Blaise pokes his arm rather stubbornly.

“What?” Draco snaps impatiently.

“I asked why you stopped.” Blaise frowns, trying to follow Draco's gaze but only seeing Gryffindors. 

“Oh,” Draco remembers himself, thinking quickly. “I just thought I might've forgotten to study for that test tomorrow, but I'm good.”

“And you had to stop here! Come on!” He grabs at Draco's sleeve but Draco bitterly rips his arm free and follows him resentfully.

Draco finds his usual seat at the Slytherin table occupied by one Pansy Parkinson. This just clearly isn't his day.

“Pansy,” Draco sighs. “What do you think you're doing?”

Pansy raises her head and turns around to smile at him. “Draco! Hey! Sit.” She gestures to the spot beside her.

If it wasn't so idiotic Draco might have made her move, but upon reevaluation (and reminding himself that he should probably stay on her good side, given what she _knows_ ), he sat down in the spot suggested for him.

As soon as he's sat down though, he regrets not finding somewhere else to sit when Pansy leans over to him and says, rather smugly, “Don't look now but _he's_ staring.” 

Draco does his best to pretend he didn't hear what she said.

“He seems to be blushing and his friends look confused.”

Draco groans. “For the love of god would you shut up?” 

“And now,” She says cheerfully, “he's making out with Luna Lovegood.” 

Draco can't help it if he looks up urgently, scowling at her instantly afterwards.

“Ha! Made you look!” Pansy is absolutely gleaming.

“I get it, you're an asshole, now can we move on?” Draco wants nothing more then for her to conveniently exist somewhere else at this moment.

“Ouch.” Pansy rolls her eyes. “I might need to teach you how to be boyfriend material. I doubt Pot-” Pansy stops herself and lowers her voice. “- _He_ would appreciate your cold indecency.”

Draco is probably livid at this point. “I _thought_ I told you to _shut up_.”

“You did.” She smiles. 

Draco hums silently to himself, trying to block out everything. He eats quicker than usual so that he can uproot as fast as possible.

“I know you don't want me speaking, but are you sure you don't want me to inform you that he's leaving?” She nudges him.

“Why do I care?” Draco asks, but nonetheless looks over at the Gryffindor as he packs up his things.

“ _Because_ ,” She addresses the boy as though he was stupid. “He's leaving _alone_.”

Draco scoffs. “So?”

Pansy makes a gesture with her hand that's incomprehensible. He assumes that this is how girls talk and shakes his head.

“I don't know what this means.” He says, repeating the gesture.

“It means you should go after him!” She turns to watch as the Gryffindor leaves the Great Hall, looking over his shoulder quickly. “He clearly wants you to follow him.”

“He does not and I'm not going to.” Draco huffs, staring sadly at his soup.

“Okay, have it your way. We do have Potions class next anyway. I suppose you can meet up there again.” She winks.

_Fuck, that would be a disaster._ Draco doesn't know how exactly he would handle sitting only five feet away from the Grffyindor without letting him know that he absolutely hates his guts and nothing has changed just because of one pathetic kiss. 

Draco doesn't acknowledge the beaming look on Pansy's face as he excuses himself quietly from the table, claiming the need to work on a project. He walks confidently out of the Great Hall, in search of his unfortunately attractive enemy, determined to give him hell.


	5. Princess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I believe you will enjoy this chapter.

It takes Draco longer than expected to track down Harry. At this point, there's only fifteen minutes until class and he's about to give up before turning a corner to see a messy head of black hair.

The boy doesn't see him coming, so as he's approaching Draco reaches his hand out and yanks on Harry's robe. Harry gasps, turning around in confusion. When Harry realizes who it is, he shrugs Draco's hand off his shoulder and blinks uncertainly. 

Draco hadn't exactly worked out what he was going to say ahead of time, which might have been a good idea. All he knew was that he was _angry as fuck_. For what reason exactly, he wasn't sure. He knew he was angry that the boy had _marked_ him and that people were pestering him because of it. He knew he was angry because Pansy had _seen them_ and now she's sure he's gay or something.

He's also angry because he can't bloody stop thinking about the damn Gryffindor, and that is _not_ acceptable. 

Draco is ready to- to yell at him or punch him or maybe he'll rip his hair out or _something_ , when he notices that the boy in front of him is blushing.

“What? Why are you doing that? Stop it.” Draco crosses his arm and contorts his face. He ignores every part of him currently telling him to behave nicely.

“D-doing what?” Harry mumbles- face reddening even more.

“Stop it with you're blushing.” Draco complains. “It's kind of hard to punch your face in when you're looking at me like _that_.”

“I'm not blushing.” Harry tries. Draco shakes his head.

“Do you realize that people are talking?”

Harry pales, looking around the hallway to ensure they were alone. “About us?”

“No they're talking about the weather.” Draco huffs, tilting his head to expose the hickeys on his neck. “ _This_ ,” He maintained. “Is _your_ fault.”

If Harry wasn't blushing earlier, he was definitely blushing now.

“And it's not exactly easy to hide or explain.” Draco continues, his hands forming into fists.

“Since when do you have a hard time coming up with a lie?” Harry bites back, finally finding his voice.

Draco clenches and releases his jaw, not even able to look at him. “Pansy knows.”

“What?” Harry panics. “Why did you tell her?!”

And for one second Draco is calm which freaks Harry out more than anything else.

“ _I didn't._ ” 

“Then what-” Harry starts, only for Draco to cut him off and for his face to return back to looking pissed.

“She _saw_ us.”

Harry gulps, fixing his glasses unconsciously.

“Which means someone _else_ might have seen us.”

And “oh” is all Harry can say, implications running around in his mind chaotically.

Draco leans his back against the wall, staring out blankly. “This is all your fault.”

Harry snorts. “Hardly!”

Draco raises an eyebrow. “ _You_ kissed _me_ , remember? Or has your thick head already forgotten?”

“Yeah but you kissed me back!” Harry crosses his arms, mirroring Draco.

“Did not!” Draco spluttered.

“Oh, and I'm sure you didn't moan either? Unbelievable.”

Draco froze, his mouth quivering without his permission.

“I mean, you really seemed to like it a lot, actually.” Harry smirked.

“If you think for one second that I _enjoyed_ that-”

“I _know_ you enjoyed it.” Harry mused, dropping his arms to his sides and taking small steps towards the Slytherin.

Draco shook his head. “It's quite pathetic that you're feeding yourself lies, Potter. You're never going to get far in life if you-” He stops when Harry is only inches away from his face, a daring look in his eyes. Draco's eyes betray him and he steals a quick glance down at his lips. He gulps, trying to muster up his confidence- wherever _that_ went.

“I don't know what you felt, Potter- but I felt nothing.” Draco reiterated. Something in the back of his mind told him that he didn't mean it, but he ignored it.

Harry remained quiet as he continued to stare up at Draco. 

“What are you doing?” Draco questioned, his voice coming out as a whisper.

Harry hummed, looking down for a second before stepping back. Draco's heartbeat quickened and he resented the space between them.

“You're right.” Harry sighed. “I didn't feel anything either.”

Draco opened his mouth to protest but quickly clamped it shut. _Potter didn't enjoy it? No, he must have._ Harry begins to walk away slowly, and Draco closes his eyes. _Was it because I'm not a good kisser?_

Draco opens his eyes to see Harry hasn't gotten very far. _Fuck it_.

The blond pushes himself off the wall and grabs Harry by his arm, roughly spinning him into his arms and-

And suddenly they were kissing again.

\- - - - - 

Harry knew exactly what the fuck he was doing, and apparently it had worked. _Of course Draco always needed to prove himself_. He was still slightly surprised by just _how_ well it had worked.

Draco was clearly quite angry about all of this, _kissing_ business, and Harry thought that it might have been a bit nicer if the blond wasn't gripping him so tightly. _Although_ the feeling of steady arms around him was very, very nice, and Harry thought he might be able to get used to it.

Draco harshly threw him against the wall, lips attacking him again as soon as they could. It occurred to Harry that maybe he should have led Draco into a room or something beforehand because right now they were at the mercy of chance. But maybe there was a part of Harry that _wanted_ someone to see.

Harry allows himself to reach up and grip Draco's back, relishing in every tense and movement of the Blond's shoulder blades.

Their mouths moved hotly and hypnotically. Harry reflected that this was at least ten thousand times better than when he had been leading. Draco released the tight grip he had around him, allowing for Harry to fall back against the wall and their chests were flush against each other. Draco moved his hands up into Harry's hair, holding his head gingerly, finally starting to handle him lightly. 

This kiss doesn't last as long as the last one though, and Harry isn't sure whether he should feel disappointed or relieved when Draco rips himself away, panting.

The boy in front of him rests one of his arms on the wall above him, taking a small step back. A small smirk emerges on his face and Harry can only look at him through lust filled eyes.

“I believe you were saying something?” The Slytherin says, but he's out of breath and it sounds a little distorted. 

Harry is about to respond when a voice- _not_ Draco's voice- captures his attention.

“Harry! There you are!” Hermione runs over to him, eyeing Draco venomously. 

“Malfoy.” Hermione greets, in an attempt to be civil.

"Granger." Draco pushes off the wall, the smirk still heavy in his eyes but gone from his lips. “I was just leaving. Don't want to be late for class, after all.”

“ _Late?_ ” Hermione stresses. “You two have missed the first ten minutes of class!”

“What?” Harry straightens up and pushes himself off the wall as well.

“You're joking.” Draco's face is pale.

“I asked the Professor if I could go to the washroom to look for you, Harry.”

“How did you find me?” Harry wonders aloud; they're nowhere near the Potions classroom.

Hermione eyes up Malfoy, who has ducked out of the conversation and begun running to class. 

“Well I heard some- noises.” She says, looking back at Harry. “I thought maybe you were being beaten up or something.”

Harry nods, trying to hide the blush on his face.

“Are you alright?” She asks as they begin to walk towards the class. 

“Oh, uh, yeah, 'm fine.” Harry mumbles.

“What did _Malfoy_ want?”

Harry involuntarily thinks about Malfoy, and _kissing_ Malfoy and curses his teenager brain for being so distracted.

“Harry?” Hermione frowns. “What did Malfoy want?”

Harry shakes his head. “You know Malfoy- he likes to start fights for no reason. Who knows what Mafloy wants.”

But Harry does know what Malfoy wants. Malfoy wants him, and that thought alone is incredibly enticing. He can still barely feel a trace of Malfoy's lips on his own and a small smile takes over his face as they walk into the classroom.

“Ah, Miss Granger, I see you've found Mr. Potter.” Snape crosses his arms. “Maybe _he_ will be able to explain his and Malfoy's inability to show up to class on time today.”

From his seat, Draco looked up a little panicked. 

“Well I can't speak for Malfoy, Sir, but-” _Shit, what do I say?_

“I got carried away.” Draco says from his seat. All eyes move to him in the back of the room. “I'm sure you'll understand, Professor, the need to remind Potter that he's not a Princess and shouldn't be treated as such.”

Snape almost agrees with him. Almost. “As much as I admire your, _services_ , Mr. Malfoy, I'd appreciate if you would do so on your own time. 50 points from Gryffindor, for making a student late.”

When Harry sits down next to Ron, he shakes his head silently. _If anyone's a Princess it's him_.


End file.
